


Of Starbucks and Uma Thurman

by emeraldsea



Series: Through the Years [2]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: 2009 Era (Phandom), Falling In Love, M/M, Phan - Freeform, Romance, dan is hopelessly in love with phil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-31 23:37:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20248525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emeraldsea/pseuds/emeraldsea
Summary: Dan meets Phil, and learns just how visceral the feelings building up inside him all these months have been.





	Of Starbucks and Uma Thurman

It seemed like time itself had slowed. He was experiencing so many new things at once. He had unlocked a whole new facet of life.

Phil was the air he breathed, Phil was what filled him body and soul, Phil was his love and his life, Phil was everything that made him him.

Had he fallen in love? He wouldn’t hesitate even a moment to answer that question.

Yes he fucking had fallen in love. It felt like he had been welted across the face with love, his head spinning with the impact of it.

All this without ever having even met him. Was it crazy? Yes. Did he care? No.

The past six to seven months felt as if it was a long journey he took from being a sad and miserable thing that breathed and ate and slept its way from one day to the next in a stupor, to being a person who was _loved_, and _cared for_, and _appreciated_, and _missed_, and _wanted_ – things he had never known or experienced in his life. Yes, he had a girlfriend who felt all of that for him, but it was as fruitful as water poured onto an upturned bucket. He moved through a monochromatic daze. He moved through molasses. He was impervious, unfeeling. He felt nothing at all.

Now, though, now he knew what it felt like to be awake and alive.

The past six to seven months was slow, because he cherished every moment he spent with Phil - talking to him, and when he is not taking to him, nurturing a growing love for him in his heart, in his waking hours and in his dreams.

But the hours that he spent talking with Phil? Through texts, through phone, through skype… Those hours seemed to fly, slip like sand through his fingers. He wished he could stretch the time, hold on to those hours for as long as he could, control time itself, make it move slower. But the tighter his hand gripped the sand the swifter it escaped.

He wanted more. He wanted to spend all his time with him. All his time, all his living breathing moments. All his life with him.

It began cautiously enough, as they carefully explored each other’s boundaries. He can’t for the life of him understand or draw a distinction between when it went from _that_ to talking to each other almost constantly – about each other’s’ favorites – food, movies, things to do, books, places. About each other’s interests. About each other’s dreams and hopes for the future.

About each other’s deepest fears, darkest secrets, desperate desires.

Phil told him he was gay. Dan took the news with an innocuous sense of wonderment. _How are you so sure about yourself, Phil?_

In a world where people took you down cruelly for saying you’re categorically and unapologetically gay, with not a sliver of being ‘bi’ in it, Phil just didn’t care for now about telling the world who he was. His family knew, his friends knew, and that was all that mattered.

Dan told him he was bi. That was who he was, he was absolutely sure of it. He had a girlfriend, and he didn’t hide that from Phil.

Why would he hide that from Phil? Did Phil even like him as more than a friend? Because they were friends, perhaps even best friends by that point, as mind boggling as that sounds. He was best friends with a person who he looked up to and admired, and to whom he became a modern-day equivalent of a pen-friend.

He had always been one to seize things from life as ham-fistedly, haphazardly as possible, even if it meant leaving people who loved him in tears. And so he opened an account on nakedbooth, and kept posting one shamelessly risqué photo of himself after another, his smooth and shaved legs and thighs and crotch exposed save for the well-positioned teddy bears. He wanted Phil to like him as more than a friend. He wanted Phil to fall for him as hard as he fell for him.

The weeks before meeting Phil was spent worrying over every miniscule aspect about his own body. Was he fat? He should eat less, his tummy was getting fatter by the day. He looked gross. Was his flat ironed fringe as cool as it looked on his emo idols? As cool as Phil’s naturally, beautifully straight hair?

He thought he would collapse when he’d finally meet him in person, unable to handle how real it would feel. All that had happened, apart from both being all flustered and tongue-tied and head-spinningly happy, was that they hugged, and felt a relieving sense of ‘_finally’_, and as though they found that _something_ that they could swear they had been missing all their life.

Caramel macchiato and long hours in Starbucks soothed their hyper-aware and self-conscious nerves. It was when they were suspended in air with the city of Manchester spread under them bracingly, when Dan felt it. It was the sharp autumn air, it was the two hundred feet below him, it was the vertigo and the giddy happiness. It filled him with absolute freedom.

The only warning he gave Phil was a faint touch on his arm. Phil turned to look at him, and Dan leaned in and kissed him. It was a soft press of his lips to Phil’s. He felt Phil stiffen in shock, he felt his breathing stop, before Phil was kissing him back, parting his lips and kissing him firmly.

They stopped before it got out of hand, and they _sensed_ it go out of hand. They_ sensed_ the dark thrill of cheating on his girlfriend and the sheer force of months of longing between them. All of a sudden it seemed to swamp and suffocate them.

They didn’t even care how obviously flirty and all-over-each-other they looked in the video they shot at Phil’s house. Dan felt like a new person. He was already starting to forget the old him. He never had felt surer of himself than he did at that point.

Two months later, Phil tweeted a picture of him sleeping on the sofa in his white shirt, face down, sleek fringe softly framing his neck.

That night, they had sex for the first time.

Dan, with his new-found confidence, had tweeted, after they were done and he was about to fall asleep beside Phil, about the poster on Phil’s wall that had been a front-row witness to their debauchery, knowing that their followers would go berserk, that they’d absolutely kill to be Uma Thurman.

He had already forgotten the old Dan. The new Dan was done being deprived of love and care and attention. The new Dan wanted and wanted with a passion. Phil had opened the floodgates. He had shown him that it’s possible to want and want, and be given it all.

He wanted Phil all for himself, he wanted them to fuck every night, and he wanted the world to discuss it hotly and covet it jealously.

~*~


End file.
